Chapter 5

Rose regarded the two men with an expression of mild curiosity, her voice steady.

"It's my closest friend's binding ceremony. Were you hoping to attend as well?"

Zack and Shawn's devotion had long since transferred to Sally. With each passing day, their disgust for Rose had grown sharper, more cutting. Once she returned to Golden Oak City, their paths would rarely cross. There was no reason to speak the truth—that she would be the one taking vows, not some distant acquaintance. Besides, neither of them would receive an invitation to her union with Alpha Thorne.

Both men froze at her words. In all the years Rose had lived in Blackstone City, she had never once returned to her family's estate. Why this sudden departure?

But neither pressed the matter.

Zack's tone was flat, dismissive. "No. My operations demand my attention. I can't afford distractions." His gaze flickered briefly to the gauze wound around Rose's forearm. "Does it hurt? Good. Remember that pain the next time you think about crossing Sally."

He turned and strode back toward the guest quarters without waiting for a response.

Shawn lingered a moment longer, his brow furrowed as he studied the blood seeping through the cloth binding Rose's ribs. "Go apologize to Sally. I have a Council gathering tomorrow in Golden Oak City. I could accompany you to see your mother, if you'd like."

Rose said nothing. She turned and retreated to her chambers, collapsing onto the stone bed without bothering to remove her cloak.

Some time later, a knock disturbed her uneasy sleep.

"Rose. Come eat. You're injured—you need proper nourishment to heal."

Zack's voice filtered through the heavy door. Rose opened her eyes, her expression weary, but she rose and unlatched the door.

Zack stood in the corridor holding an ornate porcelain bowl. The contents were beautifully arranged, steam rising in delicate spirals, the scent rich and savory.

Rose accepted the bowl with a quiet murmur of thanks and shut the door once more.

She ate mechanically, her thoughts elsewhere. It wasn't until she swallowed the final bite that something felt wrong.

Her throat seized. Rose's hand flew to her neck, her eyes widening as a sharp, needle-like sensation spread through her airways. Swelling came fast, her breathing growing labored, each swallow more difficult than the last.

She glanced down at the remnants in the bowl—and her blood ran cold.

Egg. Cooked into the broth.

Rose was severely allergic to eggs. Zack knew this. He'd always known.

Her vision began to blur, the edges of the room softening into gray fog. Rose stumbled toward the main hall where the medicine cabinet was kept, her movements unsteady. Her arm caught the edge of a crystal goblet on the dining table.

It shattered against the floor, shards scattering like frozen rain.

Rose pressed forward, but her coordination was failing. Her foot struck the base of an ancient ceremonial vase displayed in the hall's center.

"No—"

She reached for it weakly, but her fingers wouldn't obey. The blue-and-white porcelain toppled, crashing to the stone in a spray of water and crushed petals.

Worse still, her shoulder knocked into the wine rack as she staggered past. A bottle of aged Crimson Vale vintage rolled free, its contents spilling across the woven carpet like fresh blood.

Rose collapsed in front of the medicine cabinet, her trembling hands yanking the drawer open.

The allergic reaction had already distorted her lips into swollen knots. Red welts bloomed across her skin, burning and itching in equal measure.

She rifled through the contents, scattering vials and salves across the floor in her desperation.

Heavy footsteps thundered down the staircase.

Zack and Shawn had heard the commotion. They appeared at the top of the steps, their faces dark with fury.

"Rose! Have you lost your mind?"

Zack's voice was sharp, cutting through the haze of her panic. He surveyed the wreckage—the shattered vase, the ruined carpet, the spilled wine—and his expression turned to stone.

Rose's fingers finally closed around the small vial of anti-allergen tonic. She fumbled with the cap, her hands shaking violently.

Shawn descended the stairs in two strides and shoved her aside without warning. "Stop this pathetic performance!"

"Ah—"

Rose's knee struck the sharp corner of the low table. Pain exploded through her leg, hot and immediate. She felt the wetness of blood soaking through her trousers.

But the suffocation terrified her more.

She curled into the corner, forcing the tonic past her swollen lips. It lodged against her throat, refusing to go down. Rose grabbed a half-empty water glass from the table and drank greedily, washing the medicine into her stomach.

Slowly, agonizingly, the swelling began to ease. Her airways opened just enough to let in thin, rasping breaths.

Rose slumped against the wall, her chest heaving, her vision still swimming. She could hear Zack and Shawn arguing in the background—tallying the cost of the vase, the wine, the broken crystal. Calculating damages as though she were a careless servant who'd upended a tray.

Neither of them looked at her.

Her knee continued to bleed, dark streaks running down her calf. The rash still burned across her skin, angry and inflamed.

But no one asked if she could breathe. No one asked if she was all right.

They never even glanced her way.